


Au Revoir

by hunterspie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunterspie/pseuds/hunterspie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>au revoir</i>, "french: goodbye, literally 'until the reseeing'" {<a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/au_revoir">x</a>}, named after the beautiful <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbrynWPF4PA">one republic song</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _A/N: Hey, friend! Before you read this, please note that this is an end!verse fic dealing with the touchy and sometimes triggering subject of substance abuse. I neither condone nor approve of the misuse of medication; the only purpose of this fic is character study and drama. I hope it shows just how tragic the road Cas chose was, and if anything, will discourage drug use. Quinn, out._

♠ Cas ♠

 

  The first time I tried to take ibruprofen, I nearly gave Dean a heart attack.

  We were sitting in the impala on a stakeout when I began to complain about my aching head.

  "Here, take some advil," Dean told me, digging a small blue bottle from the glove compartment.

  I accepted the bottle and poured a few of the little white pills into my palm. They seemed harmless at the time; compressed mixtures of chemicals specially formulated to reduce the swelling in my brain that was most likely my headache.

  I lifted my palm to my mouth, exactly as I'd seen humans do it, but before I could throw my head back, Dean grabbed my wrist and yanked it, sending the pills flying.

  "Are you crazy?" Dean yelled, "That's way too many!"

  I froze, frightened. "I--I've seen you take many more than that, Dean. It was only five."

 "Dude! That stuff can mess you up if you take too much!"

  "I thought they were supposed to help me."

  "You only need one or two, okay?" Dean turned back to watching the house, and his voice was soft when he said, "Too much of a good thing is a bad thing, Cas."

  I selected a single pill from the blue bottle and placed it on my tongue.

  Swallowing grimly, I tried not to think about what Dean had said. He, of all people, should know.

 

  
_Unfortunately, this story is only the first of many. As I became more and more human, I fell deeper and deeper into despair. Poor Dean was left to pick up my pieces._

 

♣ Dean ♣

 

  "All clear!" I tell the man relieving me on the watch.

  We salute each other halfheartedly and I jog off gratefully back to the common room and out of the cold.

  I walk into the large cabin, swinging the strap of my gun over my head and kicking the snow off my boots at the door.

  "Hey, Cas," I call out, from sheer routine.

  "Hello, Dean," Castiel says, with the same dry disinterest I've come to expect from the haggard, unshaven version of the man who was once an angel.

  He doesn't look up from staring at the floor, and I don't look at him for too long, either.

  It hurts too much.

  No one else is in the cabin--after all, it must be after midnight--but Cas and I don't care. We're used to being the night owls around here, used to being the already screwed-up ones. Every one of the others will eventually have the same non-existent sleep pattern that we do, but for now we relish the silence.

  Popping the top of a Pepsi can (we don't even have good cola around here), I settle on the couch next to him and turn on the only working tv in camp. We have pirated cable, but barely any channels are broadcasting anymore, so I just turn it off after a few minutes of useless channel-surfing.

  The static from the tv dies down and I look over at Cas, who's still staring down at his hands.

 "Cas," I say quietly, "is there something you want to talk about?"

 "I'm fine, Dean," he replies, even though we both know that's a lie.

  Something is up with Cas, but I don't know what. He's never spent so many hours staring off into space as he has in the past few days.

  I hope it's just a sign that he's finally breaking out of this mopey self-centered stage.

  For my sake, his own, and the good of the group, I hope he'll be ready to fight when we need him.

 

  When I get up in the morning, the first thing I do is head to common room to talk to Cas.

  It's what I've done every morning since we moved into camp.

  This morning, however, is the third morning I've arrived at the cabin to find that Cas isn't there.

  I decide to take matters into my own hands, and jog over to his cabin to see what's up. When I knock on the door, Cas doesn't respond.

  "Hey, Cas," I say, breath fogging in the chilly air, "let me in."

  When there's still nothing, I pound on the door.

  "Open up, Cas!" I check the handle; it's locked.

  I can feel a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Has something happened to him? Why can't Cas just come to the stupid door?

  "Cas, I swear, if you don't open up this door right now, I'm busting it down." I listen, holding my breath. Nothing.

  One, two, three--the sole of my boot slams into the door and I rush after it into the small front room, swinging my gun around and shouting for Cas.

  There's nothing suspicious in the cabin until I get to his bedroom. He is sitting in the chair next to the bed, eyes half-closed, staring out the window.

  "Cas?" I say quietly, wondering what might have happened as I creep slowly towards him. He doesn't make any movement or noise to indicate that he knows I'm there, and the sinking feeling is quickly rising up into panic.

  "Hey, buddy, say something!" I wave my hand in front of his face. He doesn't blink.

  "CAS!" I take a deep breath, draw my hand back, and slap him across the cheek.

  That brings some response. Cas turns his head and looks at me, his eyes widening in terror but not focused on any one point.

  "Dean, are you there?"

  "Cas, what on earth did you do?" I drop onto my knees on the floor, grabbing one of Castiel's hands.

  "I'm sorry, Dean, this is...this is too strong for me."

  "Don't tell me you got into drugs again, I thought we talked about this," I manage, voice breaking. No response.

  I reach for the orange bottle on his bedside table. "What did Earl give you this time?"

  The label reads 'Methamphetamine'.

  _Crap_.

  "Cas, come on," I whisper, "I trusted you. I trusted you not to go there."

  A tear slips down Castiel's cheek. "I didn't mean to."

  I swallow hard. I'll never get used to seeing this  ~~angel~~ man cry. "Listen, this stuff can more than trip you out. It can kill you, okay?"

  "I know."

  "Then why'd you do it?"

  "What if I don't care anymore?"

  He holds my gaze when he says it, his spacey blue eyes staring straight into mine and his jaw clenched tight.

  I resist the urge to lose it, to slap him again, to lash out and scream and swear. None of that gets through to Castiel now. I'm not sure if anything does, to be honest.

  "Well," I breathe out, defeated, "Let's get you some water and ride this thing out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In case you were wondering, based on my examination of screencaps, Cas is indeed on meth in the end!verse. It breaks my heart :(


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel isn't doing well. He's fading into insanity and Dean knows it. In fact, he may have slipped passed insanity and into that window of clear thought between insanity and something more serious.

♠ Cas ♠

 

I guess I really did it this time. I haven’t been sober for days and Dean won’t speak to me.

I try not to think about it, to just ride the high into sleep and repeat the vicious cycle when I awake.

Dean hates it. Hates me, I think.

I hate me.

 

 

_Why are you doing this, Castiel? Father would cast you down. He has._

The other angels whisper to me, my brothers and sisters. Not really, of course, but I hear them anyway.

_You disgrace His name. You deserve the hatred you recieve._

I cover my ears with my hands, shouting curses in another, older tongue.

_You deserve everything He’s giving you, Castiel. You ended us. We are silent because of you._

But they aren’t.

They aren’t silent and I want to sleep. I want to think clearly. I want to be sober again.

 

 

“Cas,” Dean says quietly from somewhere in the distance. He is near, but they are nearer.

_You rely on him to help you. You are worthless. He is vile, you should know better. You are vile._

“Hey, listen, I’m sorry for blowing up the other day. I know you need me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

I stand up, I am crying now. It is hard to stand.

I look at Dean. His face is blurred like it was in the old days when I did not know his eyes. I miss those days. I was uncorrupted.

“You made them hate me!” I scream, lunging forward to claw at the eyes I can’t see. “IT’S YOUR FAULT!”

“Cas, whoa, stop, it’s okay,” his hands are on my shoulders. I can see the glint of his ring and I try to focus on it, my vision is swimming.

“It’s okay, I know, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault, I know, I know.”

I am still screaming, what words or language I do not know, but I can hear him calling to me, over the voices, over my own noises.

“I’m sorry, but I’m here. I’m here.”

 

 

♣ Dean ♣

 

  I make him promise he won’t take anything else, but it doesn’t hold for long. Why he’d want to trip with the things it makes him see, I don’t know. He has a strange liking for that ethereal place.

  He escapes too often to that far off place in the months to come. Things are getting worse around camp, and he tries to look apathetic, I can tell by his dosage that he’s increasingly stressed out.

  I finally confront him about the pills on the back porch of his cabin, when he’s a few hours clean.

  “Cas, this is nuts. You’re destroying yourself.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t care if you’re sorry.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough, Castiel. You’re going to have to do better than sorry. You’re going to have to stop.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to live in a world without you.” It’s not a romantic statement, and I don’t say it in a particularly nice tone of voice. It’s just a fact. A fact we both know to be true and wish wasn’t.

  That gives him pause, but then he retorts, “You don’t want to live in any world, Dean. Why should I?”

  “It doesn’t matter that I want to die,” I say, “I stay for you, and for…”

  “And for what, Dean?”

  “And for the camp.” The truth was, I had been about to say  _Sam_ , but there’s no way I’m telling Cas that.

  No, block it out. Block it all out because it only brings guilt and pain. Block it out because Cas is killing himself with this stuff and you need to be here for him.

  “Listen, I don’t have a good answer for you. Not right now. Not in words. But you give me a day, you give a week, and I’ll give you your answer. I’ll say it the only way I can. The way I’ve been trying to say it. I’ll be there. I’ll stay by your side all day every day, Cas. You’re the only family, the only thing, I have left. Okay?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Me neither, just…stay one more day?”

  “Okay.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suprisingly, not directly inspired by Counting Stars, but they do go well together :)

♠ Cas ♠

  When I come to, my head is throbbing.

  I remember a simple, older time--when I used to sit next to a musky hunter in an old stuffy car on long summer afternoons. 

  When the only kind of pain the pills relieved was a headache like this one.

  Ah, but it's no good. I've done it now.

  Dean is out on a supply run at the moment, and I am left sweating and aching in the canvas hammock he put up in my cabin. He thought it might be good for me to get up out of my low-lying cot once in a while, and it's out on the back porch in the open air.

  I have been telling myself I don't miss the cool breezes and nature noises of the outdoors, but I do.

  "Cas," Dean had said, his skin looking especially pink and freckled in the condensed morning light (or maybe I was seeing things), "I want you to sit in the hammock, all right? You need the fresh air. Just try it out for a while, and if you want to go back in, that's fine."

  Now that I am fully conscious, I am trying it out--like he said--and so far I don't mind it. My eyelids are even getting heavy, and I start to forget the pain in my head. Suppose I could sleep without drugs...that seems impossible.

♠

  The sun has sunk all the way down the horizon when I awake, which means I haven't taken anything all day.

   _Maybe it's a miracle,_  I think, and for once, it's sincere.

♣ Dean ♣

  "Three o'clock!" Earl shouts, and my brain kicks into high gear trying to calculate the way he's turned in relativity to where I'm standing. Where is his three o'clock?

  Something lunges at me from an alley and I plug three solid rounds into its heart. Was that the three o'clock?

  "Three o'clock!" Earl says again, and I'm already spinning around to check his angle.

  Three o'clock...twenty degrees...there.

  I fire down a street towards a suspicious-looking shadow, and hear a scream.

  Not a killing shot, but close enough. Aaron runs out of the shop behind us dragging bags of supplies, and we help him throw them in the truck before swing up and into it ourselves.

  "Half past two!" shouts Earl, and my shot is off almost instantly now that it's the same direction for both of us.

  Aaron is shaking in the backseat, yelling at Earl to floor it, and--doing one last threat check--he does.

  I look down at my watch. Assuming it's still keeping good time, I'll have a few hours with Cas before curfew.

  I hope Earl drives fast.

♣

  "Cas," I whisper, a little teary-eyed, "You made it."

  "Made what?"

  "A whole day with no meds!"

  I'm sitting on the edge of his hammock, and he looks well.

  His face has regained some of its color, and there's a little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

  "I know. Surprised?"

  "Nah," I say, trying to rub my eye without him seeing. "I knew the hammock would cheer you up."

  "Thank you. I've missed being outside."

  I'm smiling uncontrollably know, and when I stand up, I offer him my hand.

  He takes it, looking up at me, and I pull him up.

  "Let's go for a walk, hmm?"

  So we do, in small slow circles around my cabin and his, and he seems to enjoy himself for the first time in a while.

  When he's tired of walking, we settle in on his porch, him in the hammock and me in a chair beside it.

  We don't talk much, and the camp is quiet enough that we can just listen to the sounds of the woods and each others breaths. We pay attention to the smallest of sights, watching the fog from our exhales spiral up to the beginnings of stars and taking notice of each little bird that flits from tree to tree.

  I haven't done anything this deliberate in a long time, and I can tell Cas is concentrating, too.

  He touches my shoulder, pointing to a star to our left, above my cabin, and whispers something in Enochian.

  "What?" I whisper back, trying to preserve the silence of the air around us.

  "The star's name," he clarifies, and says the word again.

  I repeat it, knowing the way I say it is nowhere near the original, but not caring.

  "You've destroyed the beauty of it," Cas says with a grin, voice still low, "but, yes."  
  He teaches me the names of many more stars, until the sky is full of them and it's well past curfew.

  I can tell he's drifting off, so I help him into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin to ward off the growing chill.

  "Time for me to go, Cas. I'm off duty tomorrow, so I'll check on you first thing. Will you be clean when I get back?"

  "Yes," he says, voice slurred with sleepiness, "I promise."

  "Good."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not sure if this chapter is even good or not, but I needed a segway to the next development. Sorry if it's not very eloquent!

♠ Cas ♠

_Thirst._

  It's the first sensation I feel when I awake. My eyes fly open to blinding sunshine, and I blink as the roof of my cabin lurches in and out of focus.

  "Dean?" I ask quietly. I can't get my eyes to stop blurring and sharpening.

  "Dean, are you there?" My arms are out to either side, brushing the floor on my left side and tracing the wall on my right.

  I'm just so  _thirsty._  


  I try to sit up, but I still can't see very well and end up crashing to the wood and packed dirt that is my floor.

  "Dean," I'm mumbling his name constantly now, a dry croak for help.

  I manage to get upright and cringe as the blood rushes from my head.

  I'm a mess. I feel sort of hungover, but worse.

  "Cas, I brought you some food! Did you eat anything yester--" Dean opens the door to see me on the floor, slumped helplessly against my bed. "Oh, Cas, what's happened to you?"

  "I...tried to get up," I manage, "I need something to drink."

  "Here, let's get you back into bed. Or do you want to go sit out on the hammock?"

  "I'd like that. Thank you."

  "All right, just give me a second to set this down and I'll help you up."

  Outside on the porch, Dean and I settle in the hammock with our backs against the cabin wall, the tray of food he brought across my lap.

  I gulp down a glass of water, wincing as my raw throat swallows the cold drink.

  I suppress the feelings of disgust that rise up whenever I think about my body. I never wanted for anything as an angel--I was pure energy and grace and life--but now I am painfully aware of each aching joint.

  Humanity is so...flimsy.

  I notice Dean twisting his ring. "What is it, Dean?"

  "I wanted to ask you, ah...I got some news today."

  I chew studiously on my sandwich, thinking,  _keep your face blank_. "And?"

  "It's a lead on the colt."

  I'm confused for a second. Several seconds, actually. "I'm sorry, what does a gun have to do with anything?"

  "You know, because Sam..." Dean clears his throat.

  Oh?

_Oh._

  "Are you going to follow this lead?"

  "I'm not sure yet, but I think so. Would you be okay here by yourself?"

  "I...I don't know." Tears are stinging in the corners of my eyes--I hate the feeling.

  Dean isn't looking at me. The bare branches of a nearby tree seem more interesting.

  "Listen, Cas," he says, "I don't want to leave you here, but I need to go after this thing if I want to stop Sa--Lucifer."

  "I understand. Do whatever you feel you must." It's a lie; I don't understand. I don't understand one bit.

  Who cares about saving the world when it's already a living hell?

_Don't leave me, don't leave me..._

  "Well then," Dean stands up, slapping my knee, "I'm going to go ahead and pack. I'll swing by before I leave, okay?"

  He looks me right in the eyes this time, his brows lifted in question.

_Don't leave me..._

  "Yes....See you then, Dean."

♣ Dean ♣

  I could tell Cas doesn't want me to go, but what can I do?

  Lucifer can't go through with his plans, and if I can't stop him, what am I good for?

   _Helping Cas_ , a little voice says in the back of my head,  _He needs you_.

  
_Cas can take care of himself now_ , another side of me retorts.  _He's clean._  


_But for how long?_

  I'm finished with the rifle I was cleaning, and I slide it back together piece by piece.

  Click.

_You ought to stay and help Cas out. Lucifer can wait._

  Click.

_But what if he makes his big move while I'm stuck here caring for Cas?_

  Click.

_What if Cas relapses because you left him alone?_

  I slam the barrel up harder than necessary, furious that I'm having this conversation.

  I've tried to be mad at Cas, but I can't bring myself to do it. No matter how many times he messes up--I've done worse.

  I let Sam become Lucifer.

  It was all because of me.

  I let Gadreel into him.

  I  _asked_  for him to be possessed.

  Maybe that's why I'm so keen to get the Colt back.

  Because I started this whole thing (just like the whole Apocalypse sham and countless other disasters), and I need to finish it.

  Sam's not around to clean up my messes anymore.

♣

  "Is that good?"

  Cas leans back against the cushions I'd been adjusting for his hammock.

  "Yes," he nods. "Thank you, Dean."

  "Unless there's anything else you need, I'm heading out," I say, feeling like an overprotective parent. "I arranged for Maria to come and look in on you a couple times tomorrow but for the most part you're going to need to fend for yourself."

  "I will, Dean."

  "I want all the food I left in your icebox eaten by the time I get back in a couple days, and keep your cell on so I can call you if anything happens."

  Now I really sound like a mom.

  "Hey, I'm sorry this is so spur of the moment, Cas."

  "It's fine."

  "No, it's kind of a jerk move to just ditch you all of a sudden, but this is a big deal. I wouldn't be going if it wasn't, believe me."

  "I do believe you."

  "Okay, well...wish me luck?"

  "Good luck, Dean," he says, meeting my eyes for a brief moment before I turn to go.

  Man, do I hope he'll be all right.

♥ tbc ♥


	5. Chapter 5

  On the first day of "recovery", I am against living.

  I am the opposite of interested in conversation, so after a while, my nurse stops caring. It's not as if I make it particularly easy for her to do what Dean has asked her to, seeing as how I refuse to eat anything she gives me.

  "Castiel," Maria says in her heavy Spanish accent, late in the afternoon, "you haven't taken anything all day. Dean will not be happy!"

  "I don't care," I say, "he left me."

  "Yes, to save the world," Maria retorts, brow furrowing.

  "It doesn't matter. He left me, and now I can leave him."

  "Oh, you stop it. That's the last thing Dean wants."

  "I don't care," I repeat.

  "You're just trying to be difficult," Maria rolls her eyes.

  "So?"

  "I swear, you're like a child; grow up. Dean needs you."

  "No, he doesn't, Dean doesn't need anything."

  "You know what, I don't care. Starve to death. You can watch Dean wither from whatever afterlife fallen angels go to."

  Fed up, Maria slams the tray down next to me and stomps out of my dusty little cabin.

  As soon as she's out of earshot, I grab the tray and throw it across the room. It doesn't make it to the wall, but crashes to the floor with the sound of breaking pottery.

  I don't care.

_Dean needs you.  
_

  I don't care.

  I. don't. care.

♣ Dean ♣

  I unfurl the huge map dug from the depths of the Impala's glove compartment; it tells me I'm almost there.

  Am I ready for this?

  Hah, no. But when am I ready for anything, really?

  I fold up the map and pull back onto the empty road, feeling a nervous knot building in the pit of my stomach.

  Five miles to victory. I hope.

♣

  "Hello?" I shout, pushing open the barn door with my forearm, my fist clenched around a big silver flashlight.

  No one--or nothing--responds.

  "I'm here for the...I was given a tip leading here?" I take a few careful steps forward, the door coming to a creaking halt in its frame behind me.

  The barn is empty--just straw and manure and some gardening tools.

  I'm starting to think it's a bust when the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

  "Who's there?" In one fluid motion, I spin around, cock my gun, and bring it to firing position.

  There's a shape in the shadows, and I step closer to get a good look at it.

  Before I can, there's a sickening thud against the side of my head.

  I'm on the ground.

  "Wha--"

  The dim moonlight recedes, and blackness reigns.

  
♠ Cas ♠   


  "Castiel!"

  I groan internally; Maria is back.

  "You better get up," she gasps, out of breath.  


  "I thought I made it clear I didn't want you to return," I say bitterly, "Leave me alone."  


  "No, listen, Dean's back."  


  I try not to let any reaction escape, but I flinch a little. "He's back already? How?"  


  There's no way that's a good thing.  


  "Yes," she breathes, "On a stretcher."

  
♣ Dean ♣   


  My vision is swimming, but I can just see the arm and face of the guy on my left.  


  I grasp his sleeve, feeling my sweat soak into its fabric. "Where's Cas?"  


  "I...I don't know," the man says, pale-faced, clearly not used to carrying cots with dying men in them. I wonder if he's even a doctor or nurse; more likely, just randomly drafted to help in the medical cabin.  


  "Who knows I'm here?" I feel like I'm about to throw up.  


  "I'm not sure. Whoever saw us carrying you in, I guess?"  


  "Don't tell Cas."  


  "I don't know who that is, I'm sorry," the man says.  


  "He's my...best friend."  


  "Well then shouldn't he--"  


  
  "No," I interrupt. "He's in no shape to worry about me.  Please, just...if you can?"  


  "Uh, sure, I'll do my best," the man says, as we arrive in the operation room and they set me on the table.  


  The doctor begins pushing a mask onto my face, and soon I'm blinking back darkness again.  


_   Please, don't let him know...let him be sleeping...please.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In this chapter and in the next few, Cas may seem a little bit ooc. He is experiencing (social)[anhedonia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anhedonia), which is a real symptom of methamphetamine withdrawal._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that this is stupidly dramatic. I might've overdone it, but our angel is a bit dramatic anyway, isn't he? (Also, it's only Cas because Dean's down for the count right now.)

♠ Cas ♠

  "Dean!" I burst through the double doors of the medical cabin, breaking free from the big man's grip.  


  He's on the second bed, and--quite frankly--he looks awful.  


  "Dean," my voice drops to a soft rasp as I kneel my his cot and grab for his hand.

  There's no response; he's unconscious. His right eye is swolled up badly and the whole left side of his face and neck are bruised. I can see other nicks and scratches peeking out from underneath his hospital gown. I wonder what could've caused this kind of damage.

  "Why isn't he waking up?" I ask the doctor. I can feel him approaching behind me.

  "The patient clearly expressed that he didn't want you visiting, sir."

  "That is beside the point." I turn to look at the small, scared-looking man. "What is ailing him?"

  "I...I'm not sure."

  "What do you mean? Is it not your job to know?"

  "Well, yeah, but I'm just a nurse. I'm not even certified.  What do you want me to do?"

  I hadn't thought about that. Of course the camp would lack professional medical care. This is the apocalypse, after all.

  "In your limited expertise, what do you think his chances are? Is he likely to survive?" Dean's wounds didn't seem that bad, but I wanted to be sure.

  "Well, he's...he's in a coma."

  " _What?_ "

  "Listen, he got banged on the head pretty hard, and it put him out. Most likely, he wake up within the next couple days. The big issue will be trying to keep him from bleeding out. We can't do anything, really; just keep changing his dressings and hope for the best."

_Most likely, he'll wake up_...?

  Most likely?

  ... _not good enough, Cas._  


  I can feel the weight of the world pressing down on my as I sink closer and closer to the floor.

  "Sir, are you alright?"

  He has to wake up...

_Dean, you have to come back._

  I'm almost praying to the hunter now...imagine that.

_You're not allowed to be gone._

 I'm just an old angel, fallen to earth, clinging to the shell of a depraved man. What a sorry sight.

_Dean, please, wake up._

♠

  "I know you have some!"

  I wrap my fingers around Earl's lapels and slam him into the side of his truck.

  I don't have much strength, but desperation and adrenaline are a bad combination.

  "Get your filthy hands off me, punk! I ain't got nothin'!"

  "Shut up and give me some! I have the money."

  "I don't care. Your buddy Dave already gave me more than you'll ever have. Told me to stop selling to you."

  "What?"  How had I not thought of this? Of course Dean had bought the guy off. That would be so  _him_.

  "Listen, Dean will never know. Trust me."

  "Nah, man, I ain't gonna try and pull anything over on that dude. He swore he'd mess me up, bigtime."

  "Fine."

  I cast him aside, a little relieved to not have to push against him anymore. Earl's not as weak as he looks.

  "I'll find someone else."

♠

  I was bluffing, of course. No one else is  ~~stupid~~  brave enough to break camp rules. Earl was the only dealer I had.

  It's with a bitter drink and numbed fingers that I pass the night, next to Dean.

  He is lying in his bed, motionless but for the rise and fall of his chest. I hate to see this stillness in him; it's so far removed from his nature.

  Right now, it's the graveyard shift, and Dean is 'watched' by an aid who doesn't care. I've been sitting on this cold concrete floor for hours--I stole in while the previous aid was taking his break hours ago, and no one's noticed me yet.

  I'm not sure why I'm here, by his side, when I can't really get my heart to feel anything real.

  I have been many things as of late--druggie, spiteful, violent, needy, stagnant, desperate--but right now I just feel like an empty shell.

  I can't figure out what the hollowness means, but it makes me cold down to my bones, and I take another swig in hopes it will be driven away.

  My mind is muddled, that's for sure, and I suppose that's the point.

_Why did I choose this path? Why do I want to stop thinking?_

  I rest my head against the edge of Dean's bed, blinking bad tears. I can't believe I'm the annoying, sappy drunk Dean always laughed about.

   _What is so attractive about emptiness?_ I take another swig.

_Why do I want to stop feeling? Isn't that a desirable quality?_

  Dean would scold me now, probably. Sitting on the deathbed of my only friend, making myself senseless to the guilt and despair.

_What a wimp! Get up and take it like a man._

  Stupid angel.

  Drama king.

  I take another swig.

_Why, why why?_

  Isn't this my answer? I'm hearing crazy voices in my head. I'm suicidal. I'm messed up. I'm broken.

  Not a stupid angel.

  A fallen one.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I have this headcanon that whenever Dean and Cas get bored, Cas tells stories. This is a lot less angsty because I felt like they needed a little bit of happy....At least a chapter.  
> Also, this was short, but I'm under the weather and I think I deserve a little slack. :)

♠ Cas ♠

  "Wake up, Castiel! Rise and shine!"

  "Whaaaaaa?"

  The curtains of my cabin are thrown open by a mercilessly optimistic Maria.

  "Isss too early," I complain. She knows I sleep in as long as I can; she's the one who told me sleep is essential to my recovery. What's so important?

  "Castiel, this is a day to rejoice! Dean is awake!"

  I almost fall out of bed. "WHAT?"

  "Get up, sleepyhead! Dean came out of his coma and wants to see you!"

♠

  I am utterly breathless when I fling open the door to the ward, running over to a tired and confused-looking Dean and throwing my arms around him.

  "Cas, I--ugh!" His words are knocked out of him as I squeeze him with all my meager strength.

  "You're back," I say when I pull away, voice squeaking more than I wanted it to.

  "Hey, Cas," Dean says, and his voice is low and raspy, controlled to carefully conceal the emotion misting up in the corners of his eyes. "So, the doctor told me I was out for like a week?

  "Yes. It was...not my best week."

  "Are you...?" Dean raises an eyebrow.

  "No. I wanted to at times, and I may have gotten a little soused one night, but...no. I've been strong." I try to build all the unsaid messages into my inflection:  _For you, Dean. I stayed clean for you. I wanted you to be proud of me._  


  "Good job, Cas," Dean says quietly, clapping me gently on the shoulder, struggling to keep the shining tears contained.

  "Thank you," I reply, a little uncomfortable now. I'm not sure how to carry on the conversation; I don't really have anything else to say.

  "You don't have to say anything, Cas." It seems as if Dean has read my mind. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  "Just...hang out with me for a while?" He asks tentatively.

  "What should we do?"

  "I don't know...tell me one of your stories, or something. Like you used to do before?"

  I swallow. On long, uneventful days, I used to entertain him with tales of spats with my heavenly siblings, respun yarns of times past, and sometimes even fictions of my own imaginings.

  "Dean, you know my stories aren't very good," I shift uncomfortably, looking around to see if anyone's looking. I don't tell stories to anyone but Dean--I always feel too awkward.

  "Shut up, Cas, they're fine. They tell me I need to stay awake, so....Just talk."

  "Okay, well...I haven't make any up recently, so what about a retelling of the civil war?"

  Dean chuckles, "Sounds cheerful," and it leads into a coughing fit.

  "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine, Cas, just tell the story."

  "Okay."

♣ Dean ♣

  
After the third or fourth story, I'm getting a little sleepy. "Cas, how about we take a break? I like your stories and I don't want to nod off in the middle of one, okay?"  


  "I thought you weren't supposed to sleep?"

  I surpress a grin; I'd forgotten telling him that. "Nah, I just made that up so you'd stay and talk."

  I can see a the indignation rising in his eyes.

  "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

  "Dean Winchester, I thought we were done with lies!"

  "Ooh, it's the full name!" I laugh. "He's mad!"

  "Stop it, Dean. I'm leaving."

  "Fine," I say, still grinning, and he does.

  When he's about to disappear around the corner, I feel a tinge of guilt and ask, "You're not actually mad, are you?"

  He stops, turning his head a little so I can see the edge of a smile.

  "No, Dean. How could I?"

  I roll over, pulling up the covers as my eyelids droop.

_It's good to have him back._

♥ tbc ♥


End file.
